


defeats and victories

by brightclam



Series: domestic yugioh [3]
Category: Yu-Gi-Oh!
Genre: M/M, gender nonconforming bakura, trans man marik
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-18
Updated: 2017-08-18
Packaged: 2018-12-16 17:21:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11833434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brightclam/pseuds/brightclam
Summary: Marik and Bakura go on a date and discuss their relationship. Marik gets to terrify some innocents (Without actually hurting them, of course, otherwise Tea would kill them) and Bakura gets to watch his boyfriend be happy.





	defeats and victories

**Author's Note:**

> tw for discussion of binding, disscusion of bigotry, I guess?

There’s a loud thump from the bathroom. Bakura looks up from buttoning his shirt and calls:

“You okay, babe?”

Marik’s voice comes through the door, slightly muffled.

“Yeah, but I could use some help.”

Bakura leaves his shirt hanging open and carefully pushes open the door. Marik gives him an embarrassed smile and informs him:

“I got caught in my binder.”

The spirit chuckles.

“I can see that.”

The fabric is pulled up around his shoulders and one of his arms is half in the arm hole. From the awkward angle he's holding it at, it must be stuck.

Bakura takes a gentle hold of his wrist and helps guide his arm out of the hole in the fabric. Marik hisses as the edge of the rough fabric claws at his skin.

Once his arm is free, Bakura smooths the binder back down, into its normal position. He frowns at it, taking in the way it hugs his ribcage and pulls at his armpits.

“Are you sure this is large enough?”

Marik huffs, the movement blowing his now mussed bangs back from his face.

“That's why I was trying to get it off, turns out it's too small. But it's a new brand of binder so it caught me off guard and it got stuck.”

Bakura smiles at him and teases:

“The mighty tomb keeper, ambushed and defeated by a piece of fabric.”

Marik sputters, a mixture of anger and embarrassment leaving him speechless. Before he can regain his voice, Bakura tugs on his arm and asks him:

“Can you try putting your arm through again? I’ll help you leverage your way out of this devious death trap.”

Marik glares, but starts jamming his arm through the arm hole and down towards his stomach.

“Make fun of me all you want, but you’ve never worn one of these things.”

With his arm through the hole, Bakura starts pulling it up and over his head, the fabric catching on his shoulders. Marik snarls at the discomfort, but puts his other arm up so that Bakura’s tugging pulls the binder completely off. As he turns to pull on his shirt, Bakura averts his eyes and continues:

“I may be able to tease you about your binder, but at least that’s something easy to get stuck in. Not like the skinny jean fiasco of last week.”

Marik snorts, tries to cover up the noise with a hand to his face. He’s still unhappy with his laugh, the sound that Bakura would listen to for the rest of his eternal years if he could. Bakura pulls the hand away, gently, and presses a kiss to the sharp jut of his nose. 

The cartilage is soft and hard at the same time, so much like Marik, who is a garden filled with landmines, who still finds rain unbelievably beautiful because he’s seen it so rarely, who hugs the raggedy old stuffed animal to his chest as he sleeps, who only looks truly comfortable when he’s breaking a dogfighter’s nose with his small, white knuckled fist.

Marik leads the way back to Ryou’s room, heading for the other binder shoved in the corner of the shirt drawer. He smirks back at Bakura as he pulls him along, the expression soft in a way that only Bakura gets to see.

“I still can’t believe you bought jeans that tight because, I quote, you wanted to show off your beautiful legs. I spent twenty good minutes prying them off you!”

Bakura huffs and squeezes his hand tighter.

“I’m still not used to pants, I don’t know what’s too tight and what’s normal.”

Marik lets go of him to dig through the drawer, humming in concentration and replying:

“Maybe you should put Ryou’s lovely collection of skirts to use.”

Bakura sighs. He’d considered it, skirts seemed more natural to him, but he’d also watched Ryou struggle with this time’s gender binary enough to know that wearing a skirt ended up being seen as =girl.

“You wouldn’t mind? Even if people thought I was a girl?”

Marik stands up and frowns at him, the binder dangling from his hand.

“Of course not! Why would you think I would mind?”

Bakura shuffles his bare feet in the plush carpet, suddenly embarrassed.

“You made sure to let me know you were gay, so I thought maybe people thinking we were straight would make you angry.”

Marik snarls, one hand on his hip, in his grandstanding position. Usually, he stands like that in a duel. Seeing it now, in a oversized T shirt and fluffy socks, is hilarious.

“The gender binary deserves to die, and gender nonconforming people are our first line of warriors. Of course I’d support you wearing a skirt, I’d support anything that made you more comfortable. People will think what they think and that’s their problem.”

Bakura can’t quite stop the relieved smile spreading across his face. Once he stopped worrying about conquering the world and being locked away for another eternity in the ring, he’d been concerned about how he would fit into the complicated and nonsensical gender binary this modern world ascribed too. Fortunately, he seems to have landed in an oasis of queer people. 

Marik shuts the drawer and strides over to the closet, digging through the fabric for a moment before pulling out a skirt. He presents it proudly to Bakura.

“I think this is your style, and it’d look really cute on you.”

It’s a light mint green, the color perfectly between Ryou’s pastel blue and his own greenish yellow. It’s pleated, falling rather formlessly, and ends above the knee.

“It’s lovely. I think I can shift my outfit to accommodate it.”

Marik grins at him and hands him the skirt before retreating into the bathroom to change. Bakura pulls the skirt on, breathing a sigh of relief at feeling less restrained. Even when his pants fit right, the feeling of the fabric constricting around his legs when he moves is strange. He twirls once, feeling the skirt flow as he moves, and smiles. A dim sense of approval comes from Ryou, and is quickly backed up by Marik, who comes out of the bathroom and gasps.

“Ah, it’s perfect! You look great! But tuck in your shirt, it’ll look even better.”

Bakura tucks the ends of the dress shirt into the elastic band of the skirt, accidentally snapping himself with it in the process. When he steps in front of the mirror, he’s gone from a half dressed mess to a person ready to stroll down the streets of downtown. He turns and gives Marik a grateful hug, muttering into his shoulder:

“Thank you for the suggestion, babe.”

Marik pats him on the back and replies:

“You’re welcome, now let's go!”

\---

They must be annoying to walk behind, the pedestrian equivalent of an old man driving, as they still stop to crane their necks and stare at every part of the mall. The huge building, stuffed with stores and panes of glass, still astonishes them even though they’ve been here twice before. Marik, easily distracted by shiny things, keeps stopping and staring in the shop windows. Bakura let his look for a few moments before hurrying him along.

“I’m sorry to rush you, babe, but we have a reservation.”

Marik lets himself be pulled along and looks suspiciously at Bakura.

“Reservation?”

Bakura feels his lips curl up in a self satisfied smile at Marik’s curiosity. Apparently, he’s managed to make their destination a true surprise.

As they walk through the top level, Marik’s face stays scrunched up with concentration. He’s obviously trying to think his way to the answer and not having much luck. He’s still deep in thought when Bakura pulls them to a stop and announces:

“We’re here.”

Marik takes a look at the small storefront, filled with a foam padded enclosure and a bored looking employee, and asks:

“What is it?”

Bakura gives the employee their name and leads him inside before replying.

“Some game. Yugi suggested it to me. Apparently you get inside the giant inflatable balls and do your best to destroy the other people in the ring without actually doing any harm.”

Marik is grinning at the ring, raring to go now that he knows it’s a competition. Bakura knew he’d react that way, and looks at the two other teenagers in the ring with pity. They’ll never know what hit them.

\-------

They stumble in the front door, overheated and short of breath, but joyful. As predicted, Marik had taken to the sport with a vicious glee. Bakura has let him charge the overwhelmed teenagers a couple time before distracting him so that he wouldn’t frighten them too much. It had been quite a showdown, Marik’s cruel, strategic mind against his own.

He had fought valiantly, and held his own, but in the end he had let Marik win. He likes to see Marik happy, and nothing makes him happier than victory.

Marik beams at him as they collapse into the kitchen chairs. He looks like a cherub when he smiles like this, cheeks puffed up and his true youth shining through. Bakura loves the cruel, knife sharp side of him just as much, but he wants to see more of this side as well.

Marik extends his hand and Bakura takes it gratefully. They don’t have that much physical contact, they’re both damaged and Marik has no idea how to actually have a relationship, so they’re taking it slow. Holding hands is still a big thing to them and Bakura feels his cheeks ache with how wide he’s smiling.

Hw must remember to thank Yugi for his wonderful suggestion.


End file.
